Page 46 of Obey

That was restraint.

This is surrender.

"Yes—so close—"

Her release washes over the speakers in waves. We sit motionless as her breathless laughter follows, oblivious to the three men she's just unmade with nothing but sound.

Jace breaks first, voice scraped raw, barely audible. "Jesus Christ."

I turn toward Elias without meaning to. He's already watching me, every trace of his earlier defiance replaced by something I recognize all too well.

Across the table, Jace leans back in his chair, looking between us.

Nobody reaches for the controls.

And for the first time since Sloane Harper walked into SOLAÉ, none of us is arguing about staying away from her.

twelve

Caged in Glass

Monday mornings usually taste like stale regret and burnt coffee.

But not this one.

This one tastes like triumph, four paper cups nestled in their cardboard carrier, plus a sugar-dusted donut I grabbed on impulse. A treat I don’t need but absolutely earned.

The elevator deposits me on the fourteenth floor with a cheerful ding. I step onto the executive floor to find Elias and Jace’s offices empty, while Nate’s glass walls are frosted over.

Unusual for this hour.

I set the carrier on my desk and draw a little smiley face on each of their cups. Nate's black coffee, Elias's cortado, and Jace's triple-shot caramel monstrosity. Then I pull out my iced white chocolate mocha, take a long, satisfying sip, and dive into my inbox.

Whatever Nate’s doing behind that glass can stay his problem until he decides otherwise.

I'm deep in emails when his door finally swings open at nearly nine. Nate fills the doorway, eyes moving over me the way he reads a room; quick, thorough, missing nothing. My stomach tightens.

"Sloane." My name leaves his lips without its usual formality. "A word."

I grab the cardboard carrier and follow him inside. The door whispers shut behind me, frosted glass cutting us off from the rest of the floor. Jace sits on the edge of the table, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Elias occupies the chair across from him, gaze fixed on me.

“Coffee delivery,” I chirp, lifting the coffees. “And I brought a donut, so if this is a firing squad, at least let me eat my last meal first.”

Nothing. Not even a smirk.

“You’re not in trouble, Sugar,” Jace says softly.

Somehow, that makes it worse. I look to Elias for a clue and get that unreadable mask.

A laugh escapes me, high-pitched and brittle. "So... is anyone going to tell me what's happening? Because this three-man stare-down feels like I've committed treason."

Elias goes very still. Jace rakes fingers through his dark curls, then does it again. Nate sets both palms flat on the desk and stands slowly, as if making a decision.

“Was it Westlake? Tokyo? That email to legal? Whatever it is—”

"Stop." Nate's command cuts clean through the air.

My tongue goes still and their eyes pin me from three directions. Suddenly, I regret bringing the coffee—it's just one more thing to slow me down when every instinct screams to bolt for the door.